


i know you can see it (it's beautiful isn't it?)

by Sotong_sotong



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Hanaoi, Happy Ending, M/M, and then they get together, basically how two dorks argue about their height
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 21:31:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7071157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sotong_sotong/pseuds/Sotong_sotong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To make things square, Takahiro isn’t the one who first started this whole fiasco.</p>
<p>It’s just one day he stands next to Oikawa at practice, and notices by the slightest breadth that their chins and ears aren’t level anymore which can only mean one glorious thing.</p>
<p>By whoever’s grace above <s>or below</s>, he’s finally taller than Oikawa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i know you can see it (it's beautiful isn't it?)

**Author's Note:**

> written as a prompt fill for SASO 2016, bonus round 1: memory. the prompt was: [Remember when Hanamaki was 0.4cm taller than Oikawa and how it used to start the silliest, pettiest teasing and banter ever?](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=4132017#cmt4132017)
> 
> the liberties i took with this are large and wide but i hope it suits the prompt all the same. this is written to ["Control Tower"](http://fuckyeahgalileogalilei-blog.tumblr.com/post/27623679452/ryuunosenshi-aoi-kaze-no-fuku-takai-oka-no-ue) by Galileo Galilei so listening to it while reading would be great for the feels!

To make things square, Takahiro isn’t the one who first started this whole fiasco.

It’s just one day he stands next to Oikawa at practice, and notices by the slightest breadth that their chins and ears aren’t level anymore which can only mean one glorious thing.

By whoever’s grace above ~~or below~~ , he’s finally taller than Oikawa.

True to form, Takahiro makes quick work of this newfound discovery with all the glee in the world. He nudges Oikawa’s side with his hip, grin set wide on his face, “Yo, Hanger-kun.”

His friend pauses in sipping water from a bottle and looks over questioningly. “Yes, Makki?”

Takahiro raises a finger, swirling it in the air like a drunk fly unable to land, letting it punctuate his next few words. “Hypothetically, _just_ hypothetically, if a guy stands next to another guy and thinks _oh, we used to be the same height but now we aren’t_ , what should the taller guy do?”

“I don’t know, congratulate himself on his latest life achievement?” Oikawa rolls his eyes and looks away, but Takahiro’s not to be outdone.

“And what about the shorter guy?”

“What about the shorter guy?”

“Exactly, what about the shorter guy?”

“Makki!” Tooru’s hand darts out to slap at his wrist. Takahiro snorts. “Just get to the point!”

Oikawa’s got his puffy-cheeks-of-consternation act going on, so he conveniently pokes one of them. “Well, then. Congratulations to me, and congratulations to you. For being the shorter guy.”

Oikawa narrows his eyes, gears probably chugging in his head as he tries to process that.

And, when he does, Takahiro’s never seen him blow up any faster.

 

(Well, not since the day Iwaizumi and Oikawa fought over whether milk bread was better than agedashi tofu anyway.)

 

*

 

After practice, Oikawa comes up to his locker. “By how many centimetres?”

“Huh?” Takahiro looks at him strangely.

“ _By how many centimetres more_ , are you taller than me?” The other boy doesn’t look him in the eyes when says that. In fact, there’s a touch of red to his ears, and it’s ( _sort of?_ ) cute. 

He smirks.

“I’d say a good ten or so— _oww!!_ ” 

“Liar, liar, pants on fire, Makki! Even Ushiwaka-chan’s got only five centimetres on me, and you’re definitely shorter than him!”

Takahiro rubs at where Oikawa had whacked him on the shoulder. “How do you even know what his height is, Oikawa?”

“Pshh, details, shmetails. Don’t try to change the subject.” Oikawa waves a hand dismissively in the air and squints harder at Takahiro.

He shrugs. Does Oikawa really expect him to know when he’d realised it just that afternoon? “I don’t know? Honestly? I just noticed our chins and ears aren’t on the same length anymore.”

“I see.”

“I see that you see. So, pray tell, where are you dragging me off to now, Kusokawa-kun~?”

“To the infirmary, of course. We need to measure!”

The boy drags him away from the lockers, calling Iwaizumi and Matsukawa along in his quest to determine the exact number of their height difference; they snicker and saunter behind them all too easily, those bastards.

Still, Oikawa’s fingers are warm, lightly clasped around his wrist, and that’s ( _again, sort of?_ ) nice.

 

(What was up with all these _sort ofs’_?)

 

*

 

“it’s just 0.4 centimetres, you idiots.” Iwaizumi passes the verdict with an exasperated huff, after spending an entire 20 minutes squinting at the height chart Takahiro and Oikawa are standing against over and over again upon Oikawa’s insistence. Numerous and desperate insistences, that is.

“See? I really _am_ taller, so suck it up.” Takahiro steps away and stretches, _pops_ creaking along his back. That was fun and all but he’d really like to go back now.

“Yeah, suck it up, Tooru-chan. Be a man, and you might find yourself actually growing up,” Matsukawa pipes in, then, chortles like a cat who’s got the cream, coyly exchanging high fives with Takahiro.

Oikawa doesn’t shoot anything back, instead, he drapes himself morosely over Iwaizumi’s shoulders and buries his face into the crook of his best friend’s neck. “Traitors, the both of you. It looks like the only one who I can still trust here is Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi’s left eyebrow twitches. Both Takahiro and Matsukawa know all too well what’s going to happen next.

“Why’s that so, Oikawa?”

“Because I know for sure that Iwa-chan will never ever sprout higher than me! Your growth spurt’s already over, after all~”

Per usual, their _tsukkomi_ and _boke_ routine becomes the next entertainment.

 

(Takahiro wonders, though, what else 0.4 centimetres can translate to: the length of an eyelash? A single rice grain?)

(Or the tiniest quirk to Oikawa’s lips when he’s about to smile?)

 

*

[1mm]

 

He doesn’t mean to pick on Oikawa about this little detail ( _pun always intended_ ) but it does, and who is he to deny his inner snark?

Whenever Oikawa reaches for a book up high on a library shelf, Takahiro beats him to it, smirking ever so slyly as he _bonks_ the book on top of Oikawa’s head.

“It’s just 4 millimetres, you know,” Oikawa says hotly, “that’s around the size of an ant, not the Tokyo Tower.”

“Can’t a guy just help his friend out? His shorter friend, in fact,” Takahiro quips back. Oikawa’s face gets even redder and he pinches Takahiro’s side so hard it conveys the exact manner of his dislike towards that.

“You think you’re hot shit because of that? Ha, you still can’t even beat Iwa-chan in arm wrestling although it’s been 2 years!”

Takahiro gapes because, hell, it’s a pretty low blow. “It’s not like you can either! And I never gave up after just once, unlike you, Hanger Tooru!”

Oikawa’s smile sharpens. “That’s because I know how to choose which battles I’ll _win_ , not flounder endlessly forever like a certain Makki-chan I know.”

Takahiro drops the book a little harder on Oikawa’s head the next time.

 

*

[2mm]

 

He’s been staring at that one eyelash that’s broken off and landed on Oikawa’s upper cheek curve for some time now.

They’re eating their bento on the class block’s rooftop, waiting for Iwaizumi and Matsukawa to join in after battling the lunch crowd at the cafeteria. And Takahiro’s spent all that time looking at Oikawa’s face because of that one damned eyelash.

(The other boy doesn’t seem to notice his gaze; either he’s really just that into the spring rolls Oikawa-san has packed or he’s just pretending not to.)

(For whatever reason.)

Curiosity killed the cat but Takahiro’s more of a hamster person anyway.

“Is that two millimetres?”

Oikawa’s brown eyes snap to him, mouth twisting mid-chew. He puts the spring roll he was holding back into its box and sets the box carefully on his lap. “What is?”

Takahiro points towards his cheek. “That lash right there. I’ve been pondering my dear weary soul away over how long it might be.”

“Please don’t develop an obsession towards my eyelashes. I doubt you’d get a good price out of just one if you try sell it to my fangirls.” 

He balks. “Who’d be interested to keep them in the first place!?”

Tooru hums airily and resumes eating. “The world has seen stranger things, Makki. Like UFOs.”

Never has an urge to facepalm hit Takahiro this hard but whatever. His hand whips forward to pick the lash off Oikawa’s cheek, holding it up to his eye for a closer look.

His other hand reaches into his pockets and he pulls out a short ruler.

The face that Oikawa makes upon sight of his action is one of supreme patience, built upon a foundation from years of tolerance towards Matsukawa’s and his idiosyncrasies. It’s not like Oikawa’s a model friend either, what with his frivolous tendencies and competitive streak. “Makki, that’s a nice ruler you have there. Isn’t it the one I lent you two weeks ago, hmm~?”

Takahiro laughs it off, quoting Oikawa’s own words back at him, “Details, shmetails.” Then, he focuses on measuring the lash.

It’s exactly 4 millimetres. 

He looks up to Oikawa again; without much thought, he presses the end of the ruler against one side of Oikawa’s lips.

“Smile,” he orders.

Tooru purposely pulls down his mouth instead.

Iwaizumi and Matsukawa chooses this moment to walk in and, well, up goes their eyebrows.

“Don’t even wanna know why,” Iwaizumi states as he sits down and rips open his yakisoba-pan packet.

“Agreed,” comes Matsukawa’s wholehearted assent.

 

(At that, Oikawa does smile; Takahiro forgets to measure the soft beginnings of his curved lip because he’s too busy staring at Oikawa.)

(Again.)

 

*

[3mm]

 

Belatedly, he realises: Oikawa has really long eyelashes.

They are sort of pretty too.

 

(Takahiro’s honestly just about done with the _sort ofs’_ or _kind ofs’_ that come flitting around his brain whenever he thinks of his friend.)

(When will they set him free?)

 

*

[4mm]

 

So, it’s been a week. He’s thought a lot about this and he thinks he knows what to do now.

About him and Oikawa.

When the last bell rings, he stands waiting outside of Oikawa’s class; the minute his friend emerges at the doorway, he grabs his wrist and pulls him along despite the squawks and fumbles he’s greeted with. 

“Makki, where are we going?”

Takahiro glances back at Oikawa’s confused face. “To the infirmary.”

Oikawa’s forehead still wrinkles but he clamps his mouth shut, footsteps following quietly beside Takahiro's.

(He’s the one leading them this time.)

The infirmary’s empty upon reaching which suits his current purposes just fine; they go in and end up near the height chart. Takahiro motions towards Oikawa to stand with their backs against it just like before and Oikawa complies hesitantly.

“I thought we established our height difference already,” Oikawa says slowly. Carefully.

Takahiro closes his eyes.

Moves his hand just that little bit more to the side to grasp onto Oikawa’s.

“We did.”

“Then, what’s this?”

(There’s the tiniest quiver to Oikawa’s voice.)

(Takahiro wants to measure it.)

“I want to count the distance between our hearts. If we stand like this, don’t you think there’s none?”

The boy Takahiro likes bursts out laughing next to him, unabashed cackles come rolling to fill the air and everything else between them.

It’s beautiful.

Oikawa tightens his grip on Takahiro’s hand back just as firmly.

“Oh my god, you are the worst. Did our 0.4 centimetres just fly over your head already?”

Takahiro grins, and dips his head to peck at Oikawa’s nearest cheek.

“Never. I just wanted a really cheesy way to confess to you.”

The boy beside him _thumps_ him on the back while snorting harder than a horse, but that’s just the way they are, isn’t it?

 

(0.4 centimetres is one of the smallest in distances, and that’s the most hilarious thing of all.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Concrits are always welcomed!


End file.
